Wizard of the winds tott-1

by Allan Cole

  "An overblown reputation, as far I'm concerned, Iraj scoffed, gaining confidence by the minute. I saw you bring down an avalanche on a whole pack of them, remember?"

  Safar had few delusions about himself. He'd spent the winter testing his powers and at first had been amazed at the newly possible. But in reading the Book of Asper, the demon wizard, he saw glimmerings of a power that might be beyond him.

  "I caught them by surprise, Safar said. Besides, it was only a score or more we were faced with. Not a whole demon armywith a legion of wizards to support them."

  "You just worry about Manacia's wizards, Safar, Iraj replied. I'll take care of his damned army."

  ****

  Worry is not such an easy thing to limit. The mind may decree borders, but once erected those borders are immediately beset by fears both large and small. Nights become sleepless landscapes littered with innumerable difficulties and imagined pitfalls threatening the mightiest of beings. Large things may seem insurmountable mountains during those torturous hours when others sleep. Small things may suddenly erupt into fears rivaling those mountains.

  In the north, King Manacia consolidated his army and searched for the route over the Gods Divide. But his nights were haunted by imagined plots involving his son, Prince Luka. Then word filtered through of a mighty human king with flowing hair and beard of gold. This monarchKing Iraj Protarusbore the standard of Alisarrian and was rousing the populace to oppose Manacia and destroy his long cherished dreams of empire.

  Sitting at the right hand of that king, it was said, was a human wizard so powerful he was the equal of any demon lord of sorcery. The wizard, Safar Timura, had eyes as blue as the sunlit heavens.

  When Manacia slept at all he was troubled by nightmares in which his son suddenly turned into a human with a golden beard and sky blue eyes. In this nightmare Manacia would be forced to embrace his son and heir before his court, knowing full well a dagger would be thrust into his back.

  In the south, King Protarus massed his forces and toured his realm, spreading the news of the demon invasion. He gave thundering speeches, decrying the atrocities committed by the demonssome real, some created. He was a handsome young prince, a compelling speaker who quickly made his subjects forget the atrocities he had committed himself in winning his kingdom. People rushed to support him, swelling his armies, crying for revenge against the demon invaders.

  But Iraj's nights were as sleepless as Manacia's.

  What if Safar was wrong? What if he were not as great a seer as Iraj believed? And what if his friend was not truly his friend? If he were as powerful a wizard as Iraj believed, might he not seize the throne of Esmir as soon as Iraj had won it? And if not, why not? Which brought him back to the original worry that Safar was so weak Iraj was a fool to rely on him.

  Safar was no king, which gave him ample reason to harbor fears equal to both monarchs combined.

  If Iraj believed Safar was in the way he'd betray him with barely a thought. Safar wondered about the vision in which he'd seen Iraj's victorious march on Zanzair. What if that part were true, but in reality it was Safar's ghost who'd witnessed it? He'd certainly felt like a spirit during the vision. What if his dreamcatcher self had slipped past the part where Safar was betrayed and slain by his blood brother? It troubled him he'd never been able to see past that moment when Iraj's armies marched on Zanzair. And what of the other visionthe vision of Hadinin which all was for naught and the world was rushing toward its end?

  Then there was the greatest fear of all.

  For either kingManacia or Protarusthe key was Kyrania.

  What if the two monarchs met in battle in the High Caravans?

  What if Safar's valley and everyone he lovedmother, father, sisters, friendswere destroyed in that confrontation?

  After a time this worried Safar even more than the destruction of the world itself.

  It was impossible to imagine the last.

  But frighteningly easy to see the first.

  In the end it was fear for Kyrania that drove Safar. He was willing to dare anything to save it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TWO THE DEMON FEAST

  Safar crouched in the flowered peaks above Kyrania. It was early summer, the rains had been sweet, the heavens kind, and his valley was a misty shimmer beneath the pale morning sun. The fields were emerald green, the lake was a great blue diamond fed by springs flowing down the mountains in a silvery pilgrimage to the Goddess Felakia.

  "So this is your home, Leiria said in awe. I've never seen anything so beautiful. It's like a dream."

  Safar motioned for silence. His magical self had arrowed past Leiria's dream and found a nightmare. In his innermost pocket the stone idol blistered warning.

  He signaled to the menfifty of Iraj's finest mounted warriors. They dismounted, positioned feed bags to silence their horses and quickly shifted their gear to ready themselves for battle.

  Leiria raised an eyebrow. What's wrong?"

  "Watch, Safar said.

  He plucked a glass pellet from his pouch and hurled it to the ground. It shattered and pale green smoke whooshed up, swirling to the height of a knee. First a landscape, then figures toiling in that landscape, took form in the smoke. There were at least two score of themminiature humans moving through the fields of Kyrania. They seemed agonized, smoke forms twisting and leaping in pain. Larger columns of smoke funneled up, hardening into the givers of that pain. They were creatures of snouted fangs and taloned claws.

  Leiria caught her breath. Demons!"

  Safar didn't answer. He gestured and the smoke image vanished. He slumped onto the boulder, so mournful it was all Leiria could do not to console himbranding herself as a weakling in the eyes of her fellow soldiers.

  "This changes everything, she said, colder than she'd intended. We'd best return immediately and tell the king the demons have seized Kyrania."

  Safar nodded absently. His thoughts were barely of this world. He was imagining the terrors his family and friends were suffering.

  Safar had intended to warn his people of the coming peril, then set up shields to confuse the demons if and when they attacked through the pass. Iraj was even now gathering a force of shock troops to be rushed in to fill the gap until his main army had time to arrive. Safar had convinced Iraj even greater haste must be madethat he should go out in advance of the troops and prepare the way. Now it seemed his mission to Kyrania, which had required much cajolement to win Iraj's approval, was a failure before it started.

  "You're right, he replied, mechanical as a clockwork toy. We must inform the king."

  Leiria winced at his pain. But she said nothing. She walked back to the men to order a withdrawal. It would be done quickly, but silently. Weapons and gear were strapped down so they wouldn't rattle. Rags stuffed with brush were tied onto the horses hooves so all noise would be pillowed.

  When all was ready Leiria returned to say it was time to go. She touched him and he suddenly came back to life.

  "I must see for myself, he said.

  "You can't, Leiria protested. We might be discovered."

  Safar insisted. He made it clear the only way he'd leave now was if he were bound and gagged and tied to the back of a horse.

  Everyone was terrified of committing such an indignity to Lord Timura, the Grand Wazier. But they were equally as terrified of his plan.

  "The king will have our heads if you're captured, Leiria protested.

  "No he won't, Safar said. Here. I'll make sure of it."

  He scrawled a hasty message to Iraj. No one was to be held accountable for his actions. He added a brief report on what he'd seen so far and what should be done if he didn't return. The message was placed in the care of Rapton, the young lieutenant who commanded the warriors. Strict orders were given. If Safar and Leiriawho insisted on accompanying himdid not return by dusk Rapton and the troops were to make all speed to Sampitaywhere Iraj and his court were currently ensconcedand deliver the news.

  When he was done Safar
called for silence. He prepared Leiria and himself, coating their clothes and skin with a smoky herb that would confound sensitive demon noses. He made a spell to shield their human auras from demon wizards. Last of all he hauled out the stone turtle and alerted Gundara to keep watch for danger.

  The little Favorite and his twin, Gundaree, were back to normal again. Drawing inspiration from Lord Asper's book, Safar had devised a healing program to hasten their recoveryspecial powders mixed with warm honey and wine. For two weeks the stone idol had rested in that potion, which Safar refreshed daily. At first nothing had changed. If anything the faint buzz of life had grown fainter.

  Then one morning Safar awakened to a familiar"Shut up, shut up, shuuut upp! And he knew things were well again in the small world of the Favorites.

  Safar turned to Leiria. I know it's your habit to lead the way, he said.

  "It's more than habit, my lord, she said. It's my duty. I am your bodyguard. I must keep you safe."

  "Yes, yes, he said, impatiently. And you perform your duty well. But this time we have to change the order of things. I was raised here. I was once a boy roaming these hills. I know all the secret places boys know. I know all the secret paths boys favor.

  "I want you to follow me. Keep close as you can. Walk in my tracks if possible. Do all I do. And nothing that I don't. Do you understand?"

  Leiria swore she did and a few moments later they were hurrying down an old deer trail, so faint it might have been made by a population of mice.

  They hadn't gone a hundred yards before Safar suddenly veered to the right and was gone.

  Leiria nearly panicked, looking madly about for some sign of Safar. Then she saw where the leaves wavered and plunged after him. She heard him hiss before she saw him, jerking back just in time to avoid stepping on his heels. They traveled in silent tandem for a time, jumping onto to trails and jumping off again, veering left and then right and then straight ahead. But from the tension in her calves Leiria could tell the general direction was downward.

  Downto the broad lake and rich fields of Kyrania.

  ****

  Khadji Timura slipped his trowel into the claybed. He felt the blade grate through sand and gravel and he pushed it in a little deeper. He lifted the load up, hiding his distaste at the poor quality of the clay and all the trash it contained, and dumped it into the waiting bucket.

  "Hurry up, old man, the demon said. I'm weary."

  "Forgive me, master, Khadji said. I am old, as you have repeatedly reminded me this entire day, and my joints give me pain. If I had help, which you have wisely informed me is not possible, I could work more quickly."

  The demon, whose name was Trin, scowled at Safar's father, saying, You think because you are human and demons can't read human expressions that I don't realize you're mocking me."

  He swatted Khadji with his club. Khadji grunted and nearly fell. He steadied himself with a hand and blinked away tears that were more from humiliation than pain. Trin was experienced at such things. He knew how to rap a human skull with just enough force to gain their attention, but not so hard they'd be incapacitated.

  "You are probably cursing me and your fate right now, Trin said. This is good. It teaches you how you stand with me. I have better things to do than spend my days here in the damp and cold watching you dig up clay. If I had my way I'd empty your brains from your skull and join my mates in some spirited drinking."

  "You're right, exalted one, Khadji said. He'd recovered and was rising, full bucket in hand. And I thank you for the reminder of what a fortunate person I am.

  "Why, what would become of me and family if your superiors weren't so wise? What clever fiends they are. I've often remarked on it to Myrna, my wife.

  "Good Timura pottery equals much gold on the marketplace. Gold your king requires to fight his wars."

  Trin snorted. A pot's a pot, as far as I'm concerned, he said. You put something in it. And you empty it out. I used to pinch them out by the dozen when I was young. Some broke when they were fired. Some didn't. Who cares? The clay costs nothing. And the fire only wants a little fuel."

  "Who am I to quarrel with such an expert on pottery? Khadji said.

  "No one, Trin agreed. I was a potter before I was a soldier. I know good work when I see it."

  He looked at the bucket, then dug a tentative claw into its contents. A little gritty, isn't it? he said.

  "All the beds are nearly worked out, master, the potter lied. The best clay was on the other side of Lake Felakia, snuggled in grit-free beds he had no intention of showing the demons. This is the best we can do under the circumstances."

  Khadji saw two figures steal out of the brush behind the demon. As if sensing their presence, the demon started to turn in that direction.

  The potter lifted up the bucket to capture his attention.

  "It only needs a little cleaning, exalted one, he said. And if there are imperfections, why we'll cover them up with the glaze. Like you said, master, a pot's a pot. But when I put my name on itTimurathere are plenty of fools at the marketplace who think the name is more important than actual quality."

  "My father, Trin said, wiping a talon on Khadji's smock, who was a potter of great renown, used to tell me the same thing."

  "He sounds as wise a fiend as his son, Khadji said.

  The demon glared at him. Are you mocking me again, human? He raised his club. Are you?"

  There was a thunk. The demon's yellow eyes suddenly widened and club fell from his hands. An arrow point protruded through his throat.

  Trin pitched forward, quite dead.

  Khadji upended the bucket on the corpse and spit.

  "A pot's just a pot, is it? he growled. Then he opened his arms to embrace Safar. Welcome home, son, he said.

  To Safar's immense embarrassment, Khadji started to weep.

  "It's all right, father, he murmured, patting him uncomfortably. It's all right."

  ****

  "We'd heard about all the troubles in Esmir, his father said, sipping from the mug of trail wine. Droughts and plagues and wars. But it's always been so in the outside world. And although we worried, especially for you, Safar, we never thought those troubles would arrive to take up residence before our very hearths."

  Leiria and the soldiers were gathered about Safar and his father, listening closely to the old potter's tale. Less than an hour had passed since the demon had been killed, his body hidden in the brush. The group was gathered in a safe place high above Kyrania. Guards were posted to give warning if anyone came.

  "Not long ago Lord Coralean came this way, Khadji said, and we heard the news of the demon invasion and capture of Caspan. He looked at Safar, eyes red-streaked, skin sagging from his long ordeal. We all remembered the demons you and Iraj encountered up in the passes of The Bride And Six Maids."

  Khadji sighed. Lord Coralean was wrong, wasn't he, when he said they were only rogues who'd strayed into the humanlands?"

  It was a question that didn't need answering. Safar refilled his father's cup. The old man took another sip of the restorative.

  "Anyway, that's when we started worrying, he said. It seemed only logical the demons would have to come through Kyrania to attack the other side. We've always been blessed by peace in these mountains. But now it seemed that peace would be no more.

  "The Elders met. There was much talk of this and that, but it was mostly nonsense, for who among us had ever faced such a situation before? Coralean had promised us he would plead with King Protarus for help, but we didn't know if the help would come at all, much less in time. So we decided to mount our own defenses."

  Khadji made a bitter laugh. The lads drilled and trained and we rebuilt the walls of the old fort. But it was clear that although Kyranians can fight well enough, none of us have the killing instincts of a soldier. He glanced at Leiria and the others. I hope you don't take offense, he said. I was only speaking of professional training, not doubting the human kindness I'm sure is natural to you all."

  "
No offense given, or taken, Father Timura, Leiria said. We know what you meant."

  Khadji looked up a Safar, anguished. In the end, he said, there was no time for resistance. They took us in our beds. And then they rounded us up and put us all in that fort we'd labored so hard to rebuild. They killed some of us to set an example. They were humiliating deaths.

  "They made us watch."

  Khadji brushed away a tear. I learned what it was to be a weak and selfish mortal, he said. Much as I mourned the deaths of my friends, I'm ashamed to say I knew joy because I still lived. And your mother and your sisters."

  He drained the cup, covering the mouth when Safar offered more.

  "And Gubadan? Safar asked.

  "Gone, his father answered. He was among the first. The demons have witch sniffers, you know. Gubadan didn't have much magic. But it was enough for them to find him out."

  He touched Safar's hand, tentatively, as if amazed his son wasn't a ghost. It's a good thing you weren't here, son, he said. We've all heard what a great wizard you've become. They would have found you out immediately."

  "I'm surprised they let any of you live, Father Timura, Leiria said. We have the gods to thank for that."

  "Not the gods, Khadji said, but a human traitor. And it isn't thanks we owe him, but all the curses we can manage."

  Safar's eyes narrowed. There was a human leading them?"

  "Not leading, actually, his father answered. Although they listen to his counsel with much respect. Apparently this human has powerful friends among the demons. Some even say he has the ear of Crown Prince Luka."

  "Who is this man? Safar demanded. Do I know of him? Would I recognize his name."

  "I believe so, Khadji answered. He certainly knows you."

  When he said the name Safar jumped as if he'd been stung.

  ****

  Kalasariz strolled out of the Temple of Felakia into the warm sunlight. It was late afternoon and the atmosphere in the temple, which he'd turned into his quarters, had suddenly felt too close. So he'd left his scribe to complete the report to Prince Luka and ambled outside to refresh himself.